


The Day the Music Died

by KremGoblin95



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Arson, Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Comedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Great Depression, Inaccurate Vodou, Lucifer being a dad, Other, Pre-Canon, Protective Lucifer, Worldbuilding, obviously some Lucilith but it's just in the background, so I didn't feel the need to tag it with the relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KremGoblin95/pseuds/KremGoblin95
Summary: The year is 1933. Lucifer just wants to have dinner with his family in peace, butsomeonejust has to go and be disruptive with his radio carnage. The absolutenerveof some sinners, really.
Relationships: Alastor & Lucifer Magne, Charlie Magne & Lucifer Magne
Comments: 30
Kudos: 113





	1. Sing, You Sinners!

**Author's Note:**

> Before we get started here, I wanna give shout-outs to [RabidSquid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabidSquid) for indirectly inspiring the idea for this story (go read ["Genesis"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964465/chapters/52413481) it's so good) and to [Descendree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descendree) for inspiring me to read and write again at all (and for being such a sweet friend) (go read ["The Library, or The Discovery of Heaven"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932122/chapters/52346548) it's so good).
> 
> Now: on with the show!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Update March 3rd, 2020:** This chapter has been modified from its original version. It has been edited to include much more fire than had previously been present, which is to say, fire. Trust me, this was a necessary change. It'll hopefully become clear why in the coming chapters.

What a lousy three-and-a-half years this had been.

Sure, they were in Hell, but still. This was torture.

Ever since the United States’ stock market crash, Lucifer had been utterly swamped with paperwork over the sudden influx of new arrivals, almost all of them driven by their pitiful conditions to sin: murder, theft, suicide, those sorts of things. Lilith, meanwhile, handled things on the PR front, assuring the newcomers that their time of desperation was far from over, but at least some of them would have the rest of eternity to adjust. Their schedules were so full these days, the two of them hardly had any quality time together anymore, to the point that they were only able to catch up with each other when they both retired to their bedchambers. And that was to say nothing of the time they no longer spent with their beloved daughter Charlotte.

Lilith at least was able to bring Charlotte along with her for some public appearances; Lucifer hadn't even physically seen his daughter in weeks, and simply put, he missed her. He missed their piano duets, Charlie’s deft fingers dancing over the treble ivories while her father pounded the rhythmic bass keys like the goofball he was. He missed hearing her skylark voice crooning out ballads and belting out powerful jazz numbers. He missed letting her take the piano on her own while he paired up with his guitar, his fiddle, or his accordion to accompany her. She was the light of his existence, the sweetest angel he’d ever known – certainly better than her uncles at any rate ( _Especially Michael_ , Lucifer would bitterly think to himself) – and the Devil loved her more than life itself.

But enough was enough. Tonight, the King of Hell had declared the family take the evening off so they could at least have a cordial dinner together like they hadn’t had in what felt like ages.

The royal couple had a pleasant chat in the dining hall while they waited patiently for their princess to arrive, glad to finally have some stress-free time to spend together, and both of them - especially Lucifer - eager to properly talk to Charlie again. So when she did show up, escorted by her pets, butlers, and bodyguards Razzle and Dazzle, her father's eyes lit up and he wasted no time practically bouncing out of his seat to dash over to her and shamelessly envelop her in a bone-crushing hug, twirling her around giddily while they both wore matching fanged, jubilant grins. Lilith smiled fondly at the two of them as the king set their daughter back down and led her to their chairs. Normally the three of them would sit spread out along the dining table, but Lucifer had made it very explicitly clear to their servants that this dinner was a family endeavor; so, they all sat right next to each other as he bombarded Charlie with questions. Where to begin? What had she gotten herself up to? Was she thinking about a new project to pursue? Did she have her eye on a new potential partner? He wanted her to spill _everything_ he had missed over the past few years.

And spill she did. Turned out, Charlie was being tremendously affected by the ongoing Depression as well — just not physically or mentally so much as emotionally. While she had never been a fan of the annual Exterminations, seeing Hell’s population _grow_ so much - and so very quickly - was almost as difficult for her to watch. Everyone already seemed so miserable upon arrival and they only seemed to grow even more tortured every time she listened to her mother deliver her mass welcome speech. She knew that her home was meant to be a place of punishment for sinners, of course, but still — the thought of so many, _many_ souls suffering at once was a bitter pill for her to swallow.

Lucifer watched his daughter intently as she spoke, nodding along while he ate to assure her he was listening. When she finished, he set his silverware down, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and gave her what he hoped was a sympathetic and understanding look. In truth, he’d really never understood why Charlie was like this. Despite being a hellspawn who lived surrounded by vice, maliciousness, and pain, Charlie was a being full of compassion and tenderness. It had taken a good couple decades to get her to understand that her people were supposed to be unpleasant and unhappy. That was something like the whole point of Hell, after all. She had reluctantly accepted this reality eventually, but she had stayed resolute in her kindness and optimism regardless. It baffled her parents to no end; nevertheless, their unconditional love for her had never once wavered.

Her birth had been love at first sight for her parents. Really, they'd had no choice but to conclude that one doesn’t need to understand something to think it beautiful.

“Oh, sweetie,” Lucifer began, already rubbing Charlie’s shoulder with his thumb. “I know how much you hate seeing these sinners suffer, but…” he paused, trying to think of a nice way to say what was next to come out of his mouth. “…they’re the ones who made the decision to become sinners. They don’t have anyone to blame for their eternal punishment but themselves.”

Charlie just sighed, staring forlornly down at her food. Lucifer frowned and glanced over at his wife for help; Lilith was generally better with tact.

“Charlie, sweetheart,” the queen spoke up, putting aside her own utensils. The princess looked up at her. “You know we know how you feel about all this. But as the rulers of Hell, it’s simply our job. It’s hardly any demon’s fault that awful things happen in the living world to drive people to sin.”

“Really, once Legion was driven back, most of us just collectively decided not to take that kind of direct approach anymore,” interjected Lucifer.

“But what _is_ happening in the living world that so many people are dying like this?” Charlie asked, turning back to her father. “Dad, didn’t you say a few weeks ago that we haven’t had this kind of traffic since the Black Plague?”

“Did I? I was probably exaggerating. The Plague was way heavier than this.”

“Dearest.” 

“Right, right.” The king cleared his throat and straightened his bowtie. “I told you about everything I put Job through, right?”

Charlie shifted uncomfortably at the memory, unable to look her father in the eye. “Yeah…” she said uneasily.

“Well, it’s something to that effect, but on a country-wide scale, and none of it is my fault this time.”

Charlie's hands flew up to her mouth to stifle a gasp at the very thought, staring wide-eyed at her father once again. Lilith rolled her eyes at her husband.

“I think it’s a little bit more complicated than that,” she said.

“Well, people _are_ losing their homes, their livelihood, can barely get anything to eat,” Lucifer continued. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, as the saying goes, and so they end up here.”

“That’s terrible!” Charlie exclaimed. “And it sounds like it isn’t even their fault!”

“Oh, there certainly are people at fault, Charlie,” said Lucifer, placing a supportive hand on her arm once more. “For their conditions, I mean. And we’re getting them, I’m sure, don’t worry. But their decisions to sin were still their own.”

Charlie frowned, looking down again. It was a sight Lucifer greatly disliked, so he tilted her chin up to make her look him in the face, giving her his best reassuring smile as he continued. “Hey. Try to look on the bright side. You always do, dumpling. I mean…” he hesitated, trying to think of anything about the new arrivals’ conditions that could be considered _‘good.’_ “At least as demons, they can’t break so easily. They’re toughened from their experiences on Earth. They’ll be alright. More or less.”

This did manage to put a small smile on the princess’s face as he released her chin. She appreciated that he was trying to make her feel better even if his words didn’t exactly work all that well. So, she did as he suggested and tried to come up with a positive spin on the situation herself, glancing toward the ceiling and tapping a finger to her chin thoughtfully as she did so.

“Well,” she said finally, “I suppose they _can_ bounce back from just about anything now. And they can’t really go hungry anymore now that they don’t really need to eat to survive.” She managed to keep her smile as she spoke.

“See? There you go!” said Lucifer as Lilith smiled brightly at their daughter. “You are a gift. And you've got a gift.” Charlie beamed as her father continued, “If there’s anyone I know can see the good in a bad situation, it’s you, Char—”

##  **_V̷̬̤̈́̅̈́̈́̎̽̃̅Z̶̤͕̰̳̺͚̘̎͛͗͌͒̈́͜Ș̸̱̼̺̩̲̐̅̕N̶̟̳͇͎̘͓̪̉̄̉͜Ḱ̸̡̟̜̺ͅE̷̢͚̦̝̬͎̩͆V̵̮̼̝̞͝S̸̬̱̖̞̰̑̇̈́̎̅͘͜͠D̸̢̛̪̹̖̣̗̣͆̈͊͂͠K̶̨̲̫̣͖̳̏N̴̛̠̘̬̮̙̔͆͛̄͂̓̈J̵̖̦̰̲̣̦͈̒F̷͉̥̲̗̠̥͌̏̈́̈̍Ṅ̸̜̖̩͎̹̗̑̽̄͋̍̕M̷̨̤̺͍̣̜̯̻̀V̸̢̝̱̣̮̒̚Z̶̛̛̼͖̰͈̙͎̈̐̄͆̾͠S̶̨̡̢̙̪̻̫͋̊͒͒ͅK̴̙͎̲͎̐͐̊̽̕͠ͅK̷̺̞̯̘͆̕Ḳ̸͋̚R̵̛̝̰̐̈̒R̴̤̬̜̙̙͗͒̽R̸̢͕͉̰̃͌̅͑̎̓̏͗͜ͅR̵̞̰͌͂̇͠R̷̢̭̬̩̘̀̀̔̉̽̿—_ **

Suddenly he was cut off by an unearthly **_scrEEch_** of ear-splitting static. Everyone’s hands flew up to cover their ears as it **_sqUEaK_** ed and **_whIRR_** ed in all the worst ways, seeming to physically flash into the room for the briefest of seconds at times to try and scratch at them with razor-sharp claws. Abhorrently off-key string instruments, accordion, trumpet, and even a piano joined the cacophony only to duck out and back in again at evidently random intervals.

The closest thing to a constant throughout the horrific din was the screams.

Pained, terrified, blood-curdling _screams_.

_“ Stop it— STOP, PLEASE, STOP!!”  
“Mercy—MERCY!! AAAH!!”  
“Whaddaya want?! Money?! Don’t come any closer! Don—RAAAUUGGHH!!”  
“Get away—GET AWAY!!”  
“No! NO! NOOO!!”  
“AAAAAAAAUUUGGHHH!!”_

They varied in pitch, timbre, and volume, but the intensity was all about the same. Lucifer hadn’t heard that kind of fear from anybody in decades, maybe even centuries. It was suffering like he had hardly witnessed since the fire-and-brimstone days of ruling this accursed realm, and he was half-certain it was threatening to make his ears bleed as he and his family all winced throughout the auditory monstrosity until, almost as abruptly as it had started—

—it faded. It didn’t fade completely, no. Grating radio noises still permeated the air along with desperate, warbled shouts of panic, but at least it was no longer attacking them so aggressively.

Lucifer cautiously lifted his hands away from his head and glanced confusedly around the dining hall before checking on his family. Lilith looked more annoyed than anything as she removed her own hands from her head, of course — her natural dignity and elegance would allow nothing else. Razzle and Dazzle were curled up on the floor whining, having previously been writhing and howling in near agony from the assault on their sensitive ears. But Charlie…

Charlie was practically hyperventilating, staring dazed and horrified in front of her. Her fingers tangled into her blond locks and her wide eyes glistened with unshed tears, her face contorted with heartbreak. She looked like she was on the verge of either a panic attack or an emotional breakdown. And Lucifer hated it.

 _“What was that?!”_ she finally managed between short, sharp breaths.

“I don’t know,” Lucifer immediately answered, his face deathly serious. He stood up from his chair and began walking to the door. “But I’m going to go find out.”

His wife and daughter both did immediate double takes. “Wha— Dad, no! You can’t be serious!”

“Dearest, do you have any idea what that could have possibly been?” asked Lilith, her face and voice now filled with genuine worry. “It was nothing like any of us have ever experienced. What if you can’t handle it?”

Lucifer was already at the door with a smug smile on his face when he turned back to face his wife. “Lilith my love, have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I came out of a fistfight against the Messiah with only a couple scrapes and bruises.”

And some seriously wounded pride, but that wasn't the point.

“I’ll be fine.” He turned to leave again.

“Dad?”

His smile softened when he turned to face Charlie. When they made eye contact, she finally lowered her shaking hands, folding them neatly in her lap and looking a bit awkward as she did so.

“Please be careful,” was all she said.

The Devil fixed his beloved princess with the softest, most sincere gaze he could muster as he answered: “I will, Charlie.”

He saw Lilith reach an arm out to comfort their shaking daughter in his peripheral vision as he turned and finally walked out the door.

* * *

As the Supreme Arch-Emperor of the Seven Rings in all but official title, Lucifer was dutifully obligated to investigate the disturbance anyway, even if he hadn’t already been decently curious on his own. It truly wasn’t like anything he’d ever witnessed in all his eons of existence, and even as he made his way to his personal coach just outside the palace walls it persisted; right now it was a grating, **_cRAcK_** ling white noise punctuated with frightened wails, feral growls, and the occasional sharp **_sHRiEk_** of feedback, all fluctuating in volume and presence like a badly-tuned radio. How could an opportunist like himself pass up the chance to learn more about such a unique form of torture? It intrigued him just as much as it irritated him and had caught him off guard.

More importantly, however, whoever the culprit was had interrupted his precious, invaluable family time. Such an offense needed to be dealt with swiftly.

“Hey! Easy, girl! Woah! Diabola, _calm down!_ ” Lucifer heard a familiar high, screechy voice shout as he came to the stables. Sure enough, when he reached his coach, he found a very small imp in a red-and-white coachman’s uniform trying to steady a spindly and wildly bucking horse.

“Scriggs!” Lucifer shouted to the imp. “Please, allow me.”

He quickly approached the agitated pair, reached out, and stroked his prized mare’s charcoal black neck. And just like that, as though he had just pressed the “off” switch, the horse instantly stopped thrashing about and calmly stared him in the face. The imp let out an annoyed groan as another scream of terror ripped through the air.

“I swear,” Scriggs huffed, “you’re the only one who can get her to behave, sire.”

 _ Skre _ _e̼͛ee̯͒Ḙ̽É̺̬͠E̼͔̣̔̏͡Ȩ̛̺̺͎͕̥̳̌̉̑̅͝͠Ķ̢̡̹̠̟͋̈̋̊̅̒͢͠Ķ̠̞͍͉̄̍̆͑̄̕͟ͅ—_

Diabola immediately started whinnying and tossing her head around in distress at the sound of the feedback. It took Scriggs and Lucifer both stroking her face and neck to get her to calm down this time, Hell’s ruler even gently running his fingers through her fiery mane.

“Hey, good job getting her out for me already!” Lucifer remarked sincerely, turning to look up at Scriggs, who now sat atop Diabola’s shoulders. He reached into a pocket and produced a small gold coin. “Here’s a tip for you, Scriggs,” he continued, tossing the coin to the imp.

Scriggs caught it, looking somewhat surprised. “Wait. You want to head out right now?” he asked, incredulous. “I was just trying to wrangle her cuz she broke out of her stable!”

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I think I’d like that tip back, please.” Lucifer presented his upturned palm to the imp with a smug, knowing smile.

“Sire,” Scriggs began, ignoring the request and pocketing the coin, “you heard that…broadcast just like the rest of us did, right? As your personal coachman, I think I’m going to have to question your sanity, heading out with that… _thing_ out there,” he finished, pointing vaguely in the direction of the surrounding Pentagram City.

As though on cue, a cry of _“ Please— I'll do whateVER YOU WA—AAAAAUUUGGHHH!!”_ rang through Hell accompanied by a triumphant trumpet fanfare.

“My good man,” the king answered the imp, putting his hand on his hip instead (he hadn’t really expected his coin back anyway), “it’s simply my job to see to it that those loathsome sinners all get the punishments that they deserve. I can’t let some arrogant upstart try to take matters into his own hands, my sanity be damned.”

The imp raised his eyebrows and looked to the side, pursing his lips. “If you say so, sire.”

“I do say so. Now hurry up and get Diabola hitched to the ol’ wagon.”

With that, he gave the horse a final pat and let Scriggs get to work. It took a bit more time and effort than it would have otherwise thanks to the feedback flaring up and spooking the mare at inopportune moments, but the hellish horse was reigned to the apple red coach soon enough. Lucifer walked around to the door and snapped his fingers, and just like that, his white coat and top hat materialized on his body while his apple-topped cane appeared in the grip of his other hand. Scriggs leapt up to his seat where he’d be steering Diabola and firmly grasped the reigns.

“Where to, sire?”

Lucifer squinted out into the horizon, his sclerae now a burning red and his invisible nostrils flaring as he tried to pinpoint the source of the slaughter.

 _“ The FUCK is wrong with you, guy—YIIIIIEEEEEE!!”_ A saloon-style piano riff played.

“It’ll be over that way,” Lucifer answered, pointing in a seemingly random direction. But it was good enough for Scriggs, who nodded as the king stepped into the coach, closing the door behind him. “Follow the carnage.”

“Yes, sire.” The imp whipped the reigns to get Diabola going. “Giddyap!”

They were barely out of the gates, however, when Scriggs let out another “Woah,” making Diabola come to a stop.

“What?” Lucifer leaned to look out his window and immediately saw quite clearly what was so _woah_.

The streets were utterly devoid of life, instead littered all over with dismembered bodies of all shapes and sizes and illuminated by huge, roaring fires — fire streaming from broken windows, eating away at the awnings, and consuming upturned automobiles, throwing many of the ravaged sinners on the ground into silhouette. Some victims barely held parts of themselves together by the sinew of their muscles, others were split so severely that the only thing connecting their bodies at all was a thin entrail, but almost all of them were missing a substantial amount of flesh on their bones, and what flesh _was_ still there was blistering even as the fire continued licking at them. The road was slick with blood, some of it even having splattered onto the walls of the surrounding buildings and shining sinisterly in the firelight. Even the Devil had to admit the sight was a bit unsettling; few things were as much so as the clear aftermath of a massacre and the dead air that often accompanied it.

“That's a _lot_ of carnage to follow,” commented Scriggs. Lucifer couldn't help but agree.

_“ GRAAAUUGH, you SODDING asshat! That was my wanking hand! Wait, what're—AAAAAAAUUUUGGHHH!!”_

“Try to follow the screams, then, I guess?”

He didn't need to be able to actually see Scriggs to know the look of exasperation on the imp's face as a square-dance-style fiddle riff rang through the air.

“Alright, how about this,” the king offered. “We should see some visual static when we get close. Try to find the source of that.”

“Is that what you saw that pointed you in our direction, sire?”

“It is indeed. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfectly workable, sire.” The imp tightened his grip on the reigns. “Alright, Diabola, keep an eye out!” He whipped the reigns again, setting the mare off at a steady trot. Another radio crackle sounded.

While Scriggs kept driving and the sinners kept screaming, Lucifer stared out at the smoldering hellscape and raised his eyebrows in curiosity when an oddity began appearing against the fires. Well—several of the oddity, actually. The Devil could only look out his window, openly confused, at the sight of many small, shadowy, animate dolls ripping and gnawing at sinners’ groaning remains, snarling and gurgling all the while. The things were clearly handmade, and very amateurishly made, too: the stitching on the stuffed cloth was very visible even from a distance, and the cloth that had been used was very plain — black bodies with no detail, discolored heads, and empty eye sockets. If not for the needle-like teeth in their gaping, blood-stained maws, the deadened white glow in their eye sockets, and the fact that they were, well, moving about and chewing on people of their own apparent volition, they would have been rather unremarkable — although some of them did wear stylish black bowlers and a few of them had inexplicable black horns jutting out of either side of their foreheads. The king did notice that some of them had a couple pins sticking out of their arms, sides, or backs and knew what it looked like, but could hardly bring himself to believe it. Mostly he was just stunned by the sheer _multitude_ of them; there had to be at least several dozen.

“Sire?” Scriggs asked, snapping the Devil out of his trance.

“Uhhh— keep going. These guys look like they’re just going for the leftovers. But maybe try following them, too.”

“Absolutely. But— sire,” Scriggs went on, “are you hearing what I’m hearing?”

“The static or the screaming?”

“Well— that’s just it, sire,” said the imp. “I think I hear someone _not_ screaming under all this static.”

Lucifer furrowed his brow at that and strained his ears to hear anything other than the shrieks and screeches that had been playing continuously for at least the past half hour. Or the sound of someone's throat getting torn open mid-scream that was happening right now.

_“ AAAAAAAUUrrrggllrr…”_

The feedback flared up again, causing Diabola to rear up for what had to be the fifth time this ride, and when it died down, Lucifer heard a voice. A voice unlike any he'd heard so far today. Melodic, yet still unmistakably masculine, and jovial. It was laughing, a mocking, derisive laugh, and it almost seemed as one with the static. And when the voice stopped laughing, another short **_cRAckLe_** sounded before a trumpet played a jazzy instrumental intro and the voice started making odd noises. Noises that seemed to have a rhythm, but no apparent rhyme or reason.

_“ ♫Bap badadap, BA-da, bada, baaadap bada, bada, bop bododo, BA-da, bada, BAAA-badap ba, da!♫”_

Lucifer blinked several times in confusion. Had he just heard someone _scatting_ in this twisted auditory hellscape?

But it only got stranger when the voice started saying recognizable words. Not just saying them, either, but _singing_ them:

_“ You sinners drop everything!  
Let that harmony ring  
Up to Heaven and sing:  
Sing, You Sinners!_

_ Just wave your arms all about! _ _  
Let the Lord hear you shout!  
Pour that music out—  
Sing, You Sinners!”_

Scriggs absentmindedly got Diabola trotting again as he and Lucifer sat wide-eyed as witnesses to a completely auditory spectacle.

_“ Wherever there’s music, the Devil kicks;  
He don’t allow music by that River Styx!_

_ You’re wicked and you’re depraved, _   
_And you’ve all misbehaved._  
 _If you wanna be saved,_  
 _Sing, You Sinners!_

_ Come on, everybody! I wanna hear you sing! I wanna see you SMILE! Hahahahaha! OHH, hohohoHO! _ _”_

“Jesus,” Scriggs shuddered. “That fella is one sick bastard, alright.”

“You don’t need to tell Josh that,” Lucifer countered, too impressed by the audacious display to even be offended by the suggestion that he didn’t like music. “Sick bastards fall strictly under my jurisdiction.”

Scriggs merely grunted at that as he kept Diabola going. Eventually, she stopped and wildly began whinnying, thrashing her head, and pawing the ground, kicking up sparks as she did so.

“Hey, hey!” the imp berated her. “What’s wrong with you, girl?”

Lucifer stood up, opened his door, leaned out of the coach, and saw what the mare was seeing.

Over the distant rooftops, he finally saw the visual static peeking out, its source definitely somewhere on the ground. It spiked and thrashed violently, and as it did, another scream tore through the air.

That certainly worked for him.

“That’s our Radio Demon!” he shouted victoriously to Scriggs. When he closed the door and sat back down, it was with the broadest, most triumphant grin he’d worn all day. “Follow the static!”

“Yes, sire!” Scriggs answered as he obediently snapped Diabola faster toward the ominous static cloud, jostling Lucifer in his seat and trampling some of the dolls and carcasses as they went. The imp pulled her to a forceful stop shortly after passing a corner, nearly throwing the king to the floor as he did, gaping at the sight before his eyes.

“Holy shit,” the imp breathed, giving voice to the Devil’s own thoughts as Lucifer stared, stunned, out of his coach window.

The air was filled completely with static and distortion — Lucifer couldn’t even see the blood red sky for all the warbling and crackling, both auditory and visual. The dolls were especially plentiful here, gluttonously tearing apart and feasting on the unconscious sinners lying soaked in a shallow, glistening pool of blood, scattered in a grotesque, mutilated covering on the ground: limbs missing completely after being torn roughly from their sockets, faces and chest cavities viciously split open, or even whole bodies having been ripped completely in half, and that was all in addition to the multiple jagged stab wounds and bite marks that covered nearly every inch of the monstrous flesh still on their bones — the flesh that the fire hadn’t melted off, anyway. Here the off-kilter music was the loudest and strongest, playing a painfully tone-deaf swing tune, but at least one that had some semblance of a rhythm.

And there in the center of it all, savagely devouring one particularly unlucky sinner with all the ferocity of a rabid animal, was a bright crimson _something_ with huge, gnarled, black antlers branching out from what must have been its head. Surrounding it in the air were angry scarlet vevè segments that seemed to flash in time with the shrieking **_WHirR_** s coming from the something, which only paused in its ravaging to bark out short, cruel laughter and dig right back in with wild swings of its arms.

Lucifer heard the pained grunts that indicated Scriggs was trying his best not to throw up, but he paid it little mind. He was honestly more awed and curious about the situation at hand than horrified or disgusted. He was the Devil, after all; he’d seen and inflicted far worse bloodshed in his many millenia of existence. What he hadn’t seen before was a creature like this doing whatever it was it was doing.

 _Boy, that thing’s really going to town on that poor sap_ , thought Lucifer.

Finally, he blinked himself back to attention, took a steadying breath, straightened his hat, and put on his most confident smile before opening the door. Without taking even a single step out of the coach, however, he slammed the bottom end of his cane onto the ground with a commanding:

#  _**BOOM.** _

As though a shockwave had been sent out from the cane, the area quickly fell deathly silent. Even the fire audibly backed off. Lucifer discreetly glanced out of his window to gauge the reaction, pleased to be able to see the sky again, for one thing, and even more pleased that all attention had turned to him. Good. He needed that attention undivided if he was going to handle this situation properly.

He then stepped out of his coach, one foot at a time, and when he stood up out in the open, one hand on his hip and the other on his cane, quickly scanned the area. Blood was splattered everywhere and the fires had indeed inexplicably shrunk, but more importantly, everything’s eyes were on the Supreme Ruler of Hell. Every single doll seemed to stare at him with its empty pits and a few already started instinctively backing away from this fancily dressed man who looked out at the massacre with such a serene smile on his face.

“Now that right there is a _mess_ ,” he remarked jokingly, nodding in mock-approval.

He then turned his attention to the crimson thing in the middle of all the carnage. It stood frozen, hunched over its meal, staring at him. Rather annoyingly, the vevè segments hadn’t gone away, still floating almost protectively around the creature. At least they had stopped flashing, though; Lucifer might have been tempted to succumb to a seizure otherwise. All he could really make out of the creature at this distance was what must have been its face. It had small, glowing red eyes and a too-wide, bloodstained, shark-toothed smile. That wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy his curiosity.

With a hand behind his back and a nod in the creature’s direction, he shifted his grip on his cane, now holding it by the stem and resting its top on his shoulder. Flashing a large, fanged grin of his own, Lucifer strode calmly toward the bloody creature. As he did, the dolls that were previously snacking furiously on sinners’ carcasses started pulling them aside almost reverently to make a path for the king to reach their own apparent leader. When the Devil reached it, he simply extended a hand in greeting, still wearing a completely unperturbed expression.

“Welcome to Hell. I’m Lucifer, the man in charge down here.”

The creature stared at his hand for a few tense seconds.

Then it blinked.

It blinked several times.

It slowly stood up, its antlers shrinking back as, finally, the vevès steadily disappeared.

It blinked again, much more slowly this time, and when its eyes opened, they were much larger and more normal-looking — still glowing red, but at least it had normal pupils. Now that Lucifer was able to get a good look at it, he was able to see that it was a man. A man about a head-and-a-half taller than the Devil, covered chest to foot in short, coarse fur that was matted with blood, both fresh and congealed; so much blood, in fact, that it was nearly impossible to tell what the man’s natural fur color was. Atop his head was an incredibly fluffy pair of black-tipped deer ears to match his antlers, perked up in alert. He wore nothing but a singed, ratty overcoat (also covered in blood damp and dried) that was both baggy on him and a little too short for him. The coat was utterly shredded in several places, only reliably covered his groin area, and overall looked like he had stolen it off of some hobo in his rampage — which, now that Lucifer thought about it, he probably had. The clearest part of the man was his face: it was undeniably one of the most humanlike faces the Devil had seen on a sinner in ages. Sure, what he could see of the man’s skin was a sooty gray and his sclerae were red and glowing, but his head was a completely normal shape, smooth, with a pointed chin and a small, pointed nose. His face also was host to his most prominent feature: a too-large, fanged, yellow smile, which stayed frozen in place even as the man continued blinking, nonplussed, at the hand being offered to him.

Finally, the man cautiously reached out a clawed hand and took Lucifer’s own in a firm, yet genial handshake.

“Why, pleasure to meet you, I suppose,” the man finally said. “I must admit, I didn’t think I’d get welcomed into the Inferno by the big boss himself!”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows a bit at the man’s voice; it was still the rich, jovial tone he’d heard singing earlier, but it sounded bizarrely canned, as though he were still speaking through the filter of a radio despite being right in front of him in person. Regardless, as unusual as the man was, the Devil made sure his own smile never faltered.

“Well, what can I say?” Lucifer shrugged, breaking the handshake. “You’ve made yourself stand out. How can I ignore someone like you? In fact, lemme help you get a little bit better-situated here. I’ll even give you a ride.”

The king then twirled his cane as he lifted a leg and turned on his heel, marching back toward his coach. After a few steps, he glanced back at the blood-soaked man to see that he hadn’t moved. At this he stopped and turned to address the man again.

“Hey, that wasn’t a request, Mister Radio Demon,” Lucifer chuckled. “Come on!” he added cheerfully, waving his cane in the coach’s direction.

The dolls turned their attention back to their master, who simply continued to stand there with his unchanging smile, apparently weighing his options. Then, after what felt like hours but could really only have been a few minutes at most, the deer man finally started to walk after the king. Once Lucifer was confident the man would continue following him, he turned and led the way back to the coach again.

“After you,” he said to the man when he reached the steps. “Oh! But before I forget!”

And with a snap of his fingers, a long, blood red towel rolled out from the coach onto the steps like a royal carpet, and a much larger towel of the same color materialized out of nowhere and landed heavily on top of the deer man, who snickered through his nose as he lifted the towel to give Lucifer a confused grin.

“Try not to get any blood on my interior,” Lucifer explained.

The deer man shrugged in response. “Fair enough,” he conceded, making sure the towel covered most of him as he bent forward and stepped into the coach, the Devil stepping in behind him. Lucifer gave a knowing smile as he sat opposite the man, who was now giving him an amused smirk, presumably from the fact that another large towel had been draped over the seat on his side of the coach. The Devil allowed himself a cheerful, immature snort as he reached over with his cane to close the door.

“Alright, Scriggs!” he called to the imp, tapping the ceiling with his apple cane a couple times. “Back to the palace!”

“You heard the man, Diabola!” was Scriggs’s response. “We’re headed home. Hyah!”

And they were off. The coach’s occupants rode in silence – aside from the odd crackling and white noise still emanating from the Radio Demon – as Lucifer took in the sight of the bloodbath’s remaining burning landscape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Me:** "Alright, finally got an AO3 account! What to write first? Some nice, feel-good family fluff because I need more content of Lucifer being a dad?"  
>  **My Brain:** "Blood and gore"  
>  **My Hands:** "On it."  
>  **Me:** "Wai-"
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. **;P** 🖤  
> (And A Very Happy Birthday to you, Miss Dessie! 🎁🎉)
> 
> ### Actual Serious Notes:
> 
> I am titling each chapter after a song that I feel fits, so I might as well tell you about the song that lends its name to this chapter. You know, the one I just made Alastor sing and scat along to. That one. That song.  
> ["Sing, You Sinners"](https://youtu.be/5usbC_pMGfw) was written by Sam Coslow and W. Franke Harling and recorded in 1930 by The High Hatters (sung by Frank Luther). Also in 1930, the song was featured in the film _Honey_ , which is a movie I have been unable to get much information on. Still, it's a really fun, catchy song, and one that fits almost eerily well with the premise of _Hazbin_ , wouldn't you say?  
> Later in 1930, a modified version of the song was featured in the Fleischer Brothers' Talkartoon [" _Swing_ You Sinners!"](https://youtu.be/VNttqN1wUMY) In it, their character Bimbo the Dog gets caught trying to steal a chicken and, while running from the police, stumbles into a graveyard where the undead all start harassing him for his misdeeds. The cartoon ends with Bimbo falling into an open skull mouth, presumably getting forcibly dragged to Hell. It's a very surreal, very trippy experience.
> 
> Go on and click those links! And stay tuned, folks.
> 
> (And Happy Birthday, Dessie! ❤)


	2. Hell in a Handbasket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems a king's work is never done. Of course, being the Devil does have its perks just as much as it does its drawbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Update January 19th, 2021:** This chapter has been modified from its original version to better fit with new canon information. Thank you for understanding.  
>  ~~Also as long as Ch. 3 is still in progress leave a goddamn comment on this chapter please I'm begging you I miss getting comments **:(**~~
> 
> There's something I wanna talk about at length in the ending notes this time around, so I'm actually going to explain the chapter title right away, just this once.  
> So you guys probably all know (or at least have heard of) a man called Aurelio Voltaire. Well, ["Hell in a Handbasket"](https://youtu.be/1Wga81xJXQA), from his 2007 album Ooky Spooky, is an upbeat, Dixieland-style jazz number sung from the perspective of someone who's nearing the end of his life and knows he's got no place in Heaven - and thank God for that, because Lord knows he would _much_ rather burn in Hell than go to all the trouble necessary for a place in Paradise. Plus, it's got a lot of references to other songs, including but not limited to: ["My Way" by Frank Sinatra](https://youtu.be/EkWQidAzEiU), ["Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen](https://youtu.be/sBspSJWRT2E), and the old Dixieland classic ["When the Saints Go Marching In"](https://youtu.be/wyLjbMBpGDA). Just seems like such a perfect song for our good ol' bayou boy Alastor, don't it?
> 
> I say that, and yet for a while it was a bit of a toss-up between "Hell in a Handbasket" and ["Death Death (Devil, Devil, Evil, Evil Song)"](https://youtu.be/EUcwo_R_8vk) from Voltaire's 2011 album To The Bottom of the Sea. "Death Death (etc.)" is similar in spirit to "Hell in a Handbasket," with the major differences (aside from instrumental style) being that the narrator of "Death Death (etc.)":  
> \- Shops at Hot Topic  
> \- Does a bad impression of George W. Bush  
> \- Is welcomed into Hell via the Devil stabbing him in the dick and then telling him "Enjoy the buffet."
> 
> Pretty sure I made the right call.

As they neared the palace gates, Lucifer finally looked back at the man sitting across from him to find the deer demon repeatedly rubbing at his face with the towel he had wrapped around himself, not unlike a cat cleaning behind its ears. With each swipe, some more blood did come off of his face, exposing the very light tan on his gray skin and revealing that the blood red color on his eyelids was evidently natural. Throughout it all, the man’s smile remained. Not frozen as it had been when Lucifer had first confronted him but present all the same. He shifted it as necessary to get at different parts of his face, but not once did his smile falter. That in itself was honestly not the strangest or most off-putting thing Lucifer had ever encountered in this hellhole. What was slightly off-putting was what the Radio Demon eventually uncovered high up the sides of his face.

When he saw it, Lucifer tilted his head quizzically at the sight for a few seconds, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it before he said something.

“I think you got a little something at the corner of your mouth there,” he said, gesturing to the corner of his own smile for comparison.

The Radio Demon gave him a blank blink and a simple “Hm?” before tracing a claw up the side of his mouth until his finger found the stitching Lucifer must have been referring to.

“Oh, that!” he chuckled mirthlessly. “No, that was there when I arrived.”

He wiped some blood off the same spot on the other side of his face and flashed the Devil a winning grin as though showing off something of which he was rather proud. On either side of that grin were several small stitches that did little to hide the fact that his mouth stretched all the way back to where his ears might have been if he were still human. So wide, in fact, that if not for the stitching, his jaw might have simply hung loosely from his head like a puppet’s.

“You still have blood on your teeth,” Lucifer remarked.

The deer demon only blinked.

“You’ve got a little something on your antlers, too. Or was that also there when you arrived?”

The buck closed his mouth as he reached up to his antlers and grabbed a small piece of flesh that still hung there.

“Oh!” he said in surprise, sliding the morsel off the tip of his antler and bringing it in front of his face. “No, this… this was not there when I arrived.”

He stared at it for perhaps a millisecond more before eagerly tossing the raw meat into his mouth and chewing as though it were the most delicious thing to ever grace his tongue. When he opened his eyes again, he found Lucifer regarding him with a cocked head, a furrowed brow, and an unreadable smile. At this, the deer demon grunted in apparent realization and swallowed quickly before reaching up and pulling another chunk of flesh off his antlers, this time holding it out in the Devil’s direction in offering.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. Would you like a piece?”

“No, thank you,” the king said firmly. “I already ate. Besides, I prefer my meat a little more cooked.”

The Radio Demon looked from Lucifer to the tiny, dripping slab in his claws, shrugged, and shamelessly popped it into his mouth. The Devil managed to fight back the urge to shake his head at him.

 _What a weird soul,_ thought Lucifer as the Radio Demon grabbed and ate a third morsel from his antlers. _So casual. So enthusiastic. And so very unorthodox. I’m sure we rarely ever get sinners like him._

The deer demon was about to take a fourth chunk of flesh from his antlers when a whinnying caught their attention as the coach came to a stop. Both men looked out the window to see that the coach had been parked right outside the castle’s ebony doors.

“Gentlemen,” said Scriggs, “we have reached our destination.”

“Thank you, Scriggs,” Lucifer called. “Mind your step,” he added to the Radio Demon, who only nodded in response as the Devil opened the door and stepped out of the coach himself.

“You know what, Scriggs?” The imp turned his attention back to the king at being addressed again. “I’m feeling generous today.” Lucifer reached into a pocket, brought out a gold coin, and tossed it to his coachman once again. “Get yourself a nice pack of smokes once Diabola’s settled in her stable again.”

Scriggs caught the coin like last time, his expression of surprise unchanged. “You’re joking.”

“Take it or I’ll break your elbow.”

“Right away, sire.”

And with that, Scriggs pocketed his tip, took hold of the reigns again, and got Diabola trotting back to the stables while the king waved them off.

“Are you taking me to a specially personalized torture chamber?”

Lucifer whipped his head around in surprise at the canned radio voice suddenly speaking up. He had almost forgotten the Radio Demon was even there, wrapped modestly in that large towel and now smiling almost innocently down at him. How he’d forgotten he had no idea, considering the white noise that still emanated from the man. Regardless, Lucifer still maintained his own smile.

“Oh! No,” he chuckled. “Though I can understand why you would think that of course. Listen, before we go in, I do want you to get all the wet blood off of the rest of you. As much as you can. I’d hate to have any stains on the marble or the hardwood or the carpet; they were just cleaned the other day.”

The Radio Demon smiled brightly as he answered: “Why, certainly! I know I would hate to get on Old Scratch’s bad side!”

Lucifer tilted his head at that as he watched the other man wipe the rest of himself down. Old Scratch. That sounded like a fairly new one.

The Radio Demon was very oddly ginger with his torso, quickly giving up on it, in fact, in favor of simply squeezing as much blood out of his stolen, ruined overcoat as possible. Then the buck turned his attention to his legs, and the king – unable to stop himself – cocked his head and bent at the waist to examine them curiously. His attention was only brought back to reality when he heard a soft “ahem” and glanced upward to see the taller man looking back at him in confusion.

“Is something the matter, Your Majesty?”

It took Lucifer a couple seconds to process the question before answering. “Oh, no, nothing’s the matter, I just…” he went back to eyeing the demon’s legs with great interest before continuing, “…just haven’t seen a faun in _ages_.”

The short, matted fur that covered most of the buck’s body was obvious enough to be seen even through the many burnt-edged holes in the overcoat; what Lucifer had somehow failed to notice on first encountering the Radio Demon was the pair of unguligrade legs he sported. Long, thin, and deerlike, they poked out from the bottom of the coat, straight enough that the Devil was sure they could fit into a pair of slacks no problem. What really stood out most about them were the deeply cloven hooves on which the demon stood: they were a bright, striking red, in clear contrast to the dark, dried blood staining them. That same blood kept Lucifer from seeing clearly what color the fur on the buck’s legs was, but there seemed to be a short tuft of black right above his hooves and dewclaws.

It was only when one hoof shifted and was lifted completely off the ground that Lucifer came back to his senses and looked up at the deer demon’s face again. The Radio Demon was giving him a puzzled and slightly awkward smile as he toweled off his raised hoof. The Devil glanced back down at the brief thought of how difficult it might or might not be for someone who was once human to balance on one no-longer-humanlike leg – the taller man _was_ wobbling a bit – before one hoof came back down and the other one was lifted up. Lucifer’s eyes followed the second hoof before travelling back up to the buck’s face. Then he seemed to finally realize just how uncomfortable the Radio Demon was about his new legs being ogled.

“Oh!” The king straightened up, a little embarrassed, and cleared his throat. “You’ll have to excuse me. Just naturally curious. Adjusted to those legs yet?”

“Well,” answered the taller man, abruptly dropping his leg back down with a _clak!_ and a wobble, “when you have regular ol’ human legs for over thirty years, you _do_ kinda get used to them! Though I’m sure I’ll get used to these soon enough. After all, I’ve got the rest of eternity to adjust!”

He laughed to himself, suddenly stopping on hearing the faint, canned sound of an apparently invisible audience that had seemingly begun laughing with him once those words left his lips. The Radio Demon turned his head as though to look for the source, ears flicking, while the Devil simply continued to watch him curiously, an awed smile on his face.

All the same, Lucifer had to do everything in his power to make sure his smile didn’t slip into a smirk at the sinner’s words.

_Yeah. You just keep thinking that, pal._

“Anyway,” the deer demon said after a second, turning back to the king, “am I decent enough to head in now?”

“Not…quite,” the Devil replied evenly. “You’ve got about five more scraps on your antlers there.”

At this, the buck’s face lit up in naked excitement and he reached up to feel around his antlers for the remaining morsels of bloody demon flesh. He managed to messily gather three of them into one hand, eagerly bringing them in front of his face, his sharp, toothy grin somehow appearing even wider, when his eyes caught Lucifer’s once again.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, as though he had only just noticed the shorter man. “Pardon me, Your Majesty—I must seem rather unbecoming, about to shovel a handful of dripping meat into my trap, and in front of the man in charge, no less!”

“Nah,” Lucifer replied, tossing his hand dismissively, “you’re already in Hell, fella. There is literally nothing you can do that would ever lower my opinion of you.”

The Radio Demon simply stared at him for a few seconds after that statement as though trying to decide whether or not to take it as a complement. He blinked back at the aforementioned handful of dripping meat, considering it for a brief moment before opening his mouth far wider than he had yet – stretching the stitches at the corners of it unsettlingly as he did so – and shamelessly tossing the bite-sized slabs into his gaping maw. He took a moment to indulge in savoring the—taste? texture? who could tell, really—before slowly and deliberately swallowing with a look of pure ecstasy on his face. He did very noticeably wince when his stitches suddenly and forcefully tightened themselves on his lips, though, which may have influenced his decision to eat the two chunks that remained on his antlers one at a time. When he finished, he reached up to towel off his antlers and watched as Lucifer stepped past him towards the door.

“Much better,” said the Devil, snapping his fingers to get the large ebony doors opening with a massive _groooaaaannn_. “Now come on in. You and I have things to discuss.”

If the deer demon was at all nervous about that statement, it was impossible to tell. He simply gave Lucifer that same calm, close-lipped smile as he draped the massive towel over his shoulders once again and made to follow. The king raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise maintained his own smile. So—they wordlessly entered the castle once the door was opened wide enough.

“You see, we’ve got to get you all sorted and filed so we can keep track of you,” Lucifer began, “but that’s not all—”

“Lucifer? Dearest?”

Lucifer perked up at the sound, making no effort to hide his pleasure at hearing that voice, his eyes and smile growing far brighter than they had been previously.

“Lilith!” he exclaimed giddily before glancing back at the Radio Demon, who had tilted his head curiously at the exchange. “Stay right there and don’t move,” he told the taller man.

He then snapped his fingers again, and in an instant, the marble floor underneath the Radio Demon’s hooves erupted into several animate stone snakes, which promptly entwined themselves around him, ensnaring his legs, pinning his arms against his sides, and covering up his mouth before the deer demon had the chance to react or even really properly register what was happening. He instinctively and ineffectually attempted to struggle against his binds for a brief second before immediately realizing how futile such an effort was, instead doing his best to relax in their grasp. He blinked back at the Devil, apparently trying to look unconcerned, though the flicking of his ears betrayed his annoyance at his situation.

“Lilith, my queen!” the king called out with joy, turning back to face his wife as though nothing had happened. She was half-jogging down the grand staircase toward him, holding the skirt of her gown up in one hand to better move her legs, Dazzle flying close behind her. Not to be outdone, Lucifer began speed-walking toward her to meet her in the middle, his arms spread wide in invitation.

“Love of my life, delight of my soul, apple of my eye!” Lucifer continued as he and his wife closed the distance between them. He casually segued into reaching upwards, aiming to cup her face as he got closer while she further bent down to let him; from there they seamlessly transitioned to a kiss, Lilith’s elegant fingers gently settling on his shoulders as their lips met. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Lucifer pulled back to gaze into his beautiful, statuesque wife’s face with pure adoration in his eyes. The question had already been asked and answered in their kiss, but he said it aloud anyway:

“Did you miss me?”

“Charlie has not stopped sobbing since you left.”

He blinked.

“Pardon?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

“She says she can still hear them,” the queen explained, her voice barely above a whisper, and Lucifer finally noticed the alarming anxiety in her eyes. “That their screams are still ringing in her ears and it won’t stop. She says she can feel their pain in her heart.”

Dazzle began to stroke her hair soothingly from his spot hovering nearby while Lucifer’s hands fell to rest on her shoulders. The king’s brow furrowed, and his smile disappeared for the first time since before meeting the Radio Demon. His eyes scanned his wife’s face for any indication of—well, he didn’t know. In all their millennia together, he and Lilith had never once lied to each other, and even if they had, why would she lie about their daughter being so upset? And she certainly wasn’t joking; unfortunate though it was, she simply didn’t quite have the initiative for humor that her husband and daughter had, and even if she had, they both knew this wasn’t funny. There had to be more to it, there just had to be.

“What?” he breathed in disbelief. There had to be some kind of mistake, some miscommunication, _something_ —

“She’s in her room with Razzle. She’s not breathing normally. I can’t calm her down. She needs you.”

Lucifer felt his own breathing speed up as she spoke. He heard something he knew well but had never before heard in Lilith’s voice: fear. Why fear? Why would she be afraid? His eyes stayed on her face, though he no longer truly saw her, instead turning his attention inward. To his confusion and mild astonishment, he felt something unfamiliar tugging at his own heart. Was he afraid, too? It felt strange, and it didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t in danger, and neither were his wife or daughter. No one was in any greater danger now that the Radio Demon had been incapacitated. No one he cared about was hurt, Charlie was just upset.

Despairingly, crushingly upset and unable to function properly right now. That’s all…

Something else flashed in his mind and he found himself inexplicably thinking of that Israelite woman, Miriam. He blinked in bewilderment—what did the Holy Queen of Heaven have to do with any of this?

“I…”

“Lucifer, my dearest. Please. Our daughter needs you.”

He stared helplessly into her pleading eyes. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t know how to soothe or comfort anyone. The closest he knew was boosting someone’s confidence; unfortunately, making someone feel more powerful and helping someone with their emotions were two very different things. He couldn’t make his daughter feel better about all the slaughter that had just happened the way he could superficially make dumb schmucks feel justified in their own actions. His normally silver tongue would be of no use, and he didn’t want to resort to lying to Charlie anyway.

He was stuck.

_“Please…”_

The king finally shook his head as if to clear it, his gaze dropping. “I’ll…” he gathered up the courage to look his wife in the eyes again. “I’ll do what I can. I just have a guest to take care of first.”

Lilith lifted her head for a mere moment to glance over his hat at the deer demon bound and gagged near their front doors.

“Is this that Radio Demon?” she asked coolly, returning her attention to her husband.

“It is indeed,” Lucifer confirmed. “Now go. Let her know I’m back. I’ll be with her as soon as I’m done with the Radio Demon. I promise.”

Lilith hesitated, but then nodded, her face set. The queen and her husband shared one last parting kiss before she straightened up, turned around, and began walking back in the direction she came, Dazzle following close behind. Lucifer mustered up a soft smile as he waved her off.

That softness vanished almost as quickly as it had initially appeared, however, when the Devil abruptly snapped his head back around to face the Radio Demon, his wide, menacing, toothy grin a thin veneer for the rage and hatred coursing through his very being at the lowly, loathsome sinner’s actions. In that moment, all thoughts of getting the buck in the registry, dropping him back into the Inferno, and leaving it at that quickly evaporated, replaced instead by a vengeful instinct that threatened to shake his body to its core. Exactly one lucid thought managed to break through the heated emotion:

_Nobody upsets my sweet little apple dumpling like this and gets away with it THAT easily._

After a steadying breath, however, he managed to disguise his grimace as a calm, serene smile, apparently before the buck could notice anything off. He turned the rest of his body back around and walked back to the Radio Demon with a confident strut. The sinner couldn’t know anything was off. Not yet. Of that, the Devil was certain. After all, if there was one thing at which he was the undisputed master, it was deception.

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way!” exclaimed the king, snapping his fingers and causing the stone snakes restraining the buck to instantly disintegrate, leaving the sinner to land ungracefully on his bony rear. The Radio Demon barely had a chance to react, however, when Lucifer reached for his arm and, a little more forcefully than was necessary, pulled him back up to his hooves.

“How about you and I get down to business, then?” the Devil suggested cheerfully, pinning the other man tightly against his side with an overly friendly smile.

The buck’s close-lipped smile did not falter, though it did become a bit more strained and discomfited. At this Lucifer narrowed his eyes ever so slightly toward the taller man before releasing him and gesturing toward a different staircase, starting to scale it while indicating with a wave of his hand for the sinner to follow.

“Your Majesty, if I may?” asked the Radio Demon, his hooves clacking loudly on the marble.

“Go ahead,” answered the Devil. “You’re already in Hell, buddy.”

“Your wife is a very lovely woman.”

“Isn’t she, though?” Lucifer agreed without thinking, a dreamy smile on his face. “You know, get in our good graces and I’m sure she’d be down for a threesome.”

_Squ eAK!_

Lucifer stopped and turned around at the noise to see the Radio Demon frozen in place. The buck’s fanged grin remained fixed despite the air of abject panic that suddenly emanated from him. It was as though his brain had simply ceased function; the sight caused Lucifer’s confused smirk to turn into a bout of barely suppressed giggling.

“No? Not your cup of tea?” he asked the taller man, voice shaking from laughter. “Well maybe that can be a punishment later instead!”

There was another _scrE Ech!_ of feedback as the Radio Demon’s eyes suddenly darted nervously back to the king. His hands gripped desperately at the bloodied towel, drawing it almost protectively around him, and his grin grew defensively even as his ears betrayed his nervousness.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m joking!” the Devil tried to reassure him even as he found he had to take a few breaths to calm himself down. He smiled back at the deer man in a far better mood than he had been mere minutes ago and reached around his waist to pin him to his side again. The other man stiffened, and his smile became a close-lipped one as he looked down at the king. For his part, Lucifer found himself enjoying the sinner’s clear discomfort and not-so-subtle attempts to hide it far more than he probably should have.

“Now,” the king declared, dragging the buck up the stairs alongside him, “let’s get you out of that ratty old thing and into something decent that’ll actually cover you, why don’t we?”

The Radio Demon blinked confusedly at that before glancing down at the bloody towel and shredded overcoat.

“Oh! Oh, why thank you! Although… well… about that….”

* * *

“Well, huh. That’s certainly something else. Can’t say I’ve ever seen anything _quite_ like this before. Not honestly, anyway.”

The king had led the sinner into a dressing room, where, after some convincing, the Radio Demon had agreed to let the Devil see why he was so reluctant to disturb his overcoat in any capacity: embedded in the buck’s furry torso were several long, thin sewing pins. Every single one looked to be stuck at awkward and uncomfortable angles, as though they were put in with the explicit intent of making the act of removing them as unreasonably impractical as possible. Of particular interest were a few pins stabbed almost directly into his heart.

Lucifer examined them closely, thinking back to the animate dolls he had seen earlier. For those creatures to have pins sticking out of them was odd, but not nonsensical; for their apparent leader, a deer demon and otherwise supposedly ordinary sinner, it was downright strange. The Devil could think of very few explanations for this, and all of them were severe stretches of logic.

After a moment, he gave in to his curiosity and lightly touched the head of one of the pins, gingerly attempting to pull it out of the sinner’s chest – only to be abruptly cut off by the Radio Demon quickly drawing his coat shut again. The king glanced back up at the taller man’s face to see him smiling nervously and looking more than a little bit physically pained.

“I already tried removing them when I arrived,” the buck explained. “I don’t think they come out.”

The Devil nodded in understanding, giving the overcoat a knowing smirk. “I see,” he said. “Well, regardless, I think you oughta get yourself properly cleaned up,” he added, gesturing to a door that led to a small washroom. “And don’t worry; there are proper clothes in there for you.”

The Radio Demon smiled blankly between the door and the Devil for a few seconds before giving Lucifer a small, appreciative nod. “Well, thank you for your hospitality. I could go for some proper clothes.”

With that, the taller man strode over to the door and calmly opened it, making sure to close and lock it once he was inside. Lucifer watched him go with an unreadable smile on his face, only dropping it when he heard the water turn on. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he'd been holding and dropped onto a nearby couch, holding his face in his hands. Now that he was alone, he allowed himself to think back to the troubling news Lilith had greeted him with.

Their daughter was in tears over those sorry sinners, their cries of pain, their screams of terror. She was so distraught she wasn’t breathing normally. He hated it. He hated even thinking about it. He could picture her lying on her bed, tearfully hyperventilating and gripping onto Razzle so tightly the poor creature’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out. The image was so vivid that in that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be with her, embracing her, stroking her hair and telling her everything would be alright.

And then there was Miriam. Why in this realm or any other would his mind go to her? They’d never even _met_ in person! Sure, there was plenty he knew about her—about how she was apparently the _‘immaculate conception’_ (Lord in Heaven what a pretentious title); how she had become pregnant with Josh while still a virgin; how she and her husband had had no choice but to room in a barn for the Roman census, and how she’d been forced to give disgusting human birth in the filthy place; how she’d outlived her son, witnessed his public execution with her very own eyes; how she’d succumbed to overwhelming grief and wept onto his fresh corpse while cradling him in her arms just before the burial….

She hadn’t realized Josh would come back. She must have been so humanly convinced he could never come back. It wasn’t as though normal humans could ever recover from something like that, after all. Or as though any parent would want to see their child suffer in such a way…

_…oh._

All at once it smacked him in the face. That completely alien experience earlier he thought might have been fear really was fear after all. He _was_ afraid. _Lilith_ was afraid. The two of them were _afraid_ for their sweet Charlie, their light in this damnable place, their precious dumpling. She was going through something outright awful from which she might not ever recover. Something she flat-out didn’t deserve. Something they may not have specifically dreaded, but still would never want her to go through—the very thought pained the king and queen.

This was the closest Lucifer had ever come to understanding the pain Miriam must have gone through when watching her son’s brutal crucifixion, and he sincerely hoped to the Father that he would never come any closer to that understanding.

This was honestly bad enough.

But what could he possibly hope to do for Charlie, then? Was she afraid, too? Emotional empathy didn’t exactly come easily to angels of any kind – or their once-jealous-and-wrathful Father before Josh was born, for that matter. Lucifer wasn’t sure his brothers could even feel pain. Even Lilith had trouble with empathy, and Lucifer was fairly certain he knew why: she had never eaten the Fruit of Knowledge of Good and Evil. That absolutely did not make her stupid—quite the contrary, in fact. She was very cunning, discerning, and independent. What actually separated her from every other human in existence was her utter lack of a moral compass. To her, what was sinful and what was righteous was completely arbitrary. What she did know was that she loved her family very much — and good, evil, whatever, nothing would change that. It was one of many things Lucifer loved about her so much.

If _she_ couldn’t help their beloved Charlie, what chance did he have?

“Is there an issue, Your Majesty?”

He looked up to see the Radio Demon fresh out of the bathroom, hands folded neatly behind his back and posture impeccably straight. The attire Lucifer had selected for him revealed the now-scrubbed-clean and messily-fluffed fur on the taller man’s arms and legs to be the same crimson color as his damp hair and ears, though there were indeed tufts of black right above his hooves and a patch of black creeping up onto his neck as it peeked out of the V-neck collar of the off-white, threadbare shirt he wore - paired with short, mud-brown, threadbare trousers. Lucifer couldn’t help a smug smirk spreading across his features at the forced, close-lipped smile on the sinner’s own gray mug, clearly displeased with the clothing he’d been forced to accept. They were old, loose-fitting peasant clothes that Lucifer had used as loungewear during Europe’s medieval era, but since he hardly wore them anymore, he thought little of passing them off to some sinner. He wouldn’t really miss them that much.

And yet it took him such willpower not to snicker at the buck wearing his old clothes. They were still a little loose on and rather too short for the guy.

The Devil forced his gaze back up to the sinner’s unamused face, suddenly remembering that he’d been asked a question.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, his smile back on his face. “No, no, there’s no issue,” he continued, standing up from the couch and taking a couple steps toward the Radio Demon. “Though I can see you still need a proper wardrobe.” He conjured a business card into his hand and gave it to the sinner, whose eyes scanned the information closely. “Best tailor in town. Just tell her I ordered and recommended her; she should give you an appointment free of charge.”

“Much obliged for your generosity, Your Majesty.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Now!” Lucifer continued, rubbing his hands together. “We just gotta get you in the registry real quick. I mean, you _have_ become a bit of a priority. The sooner we can keep track of you the better and all that.”

He then closed his eyes, pressing two fingers to his temple and picturing a massive room full of files. “Alright, Mister Radio Demon. Gimme your name. The one you had in life.”

“Oh, of course! Alastor.”

“Your _full_ name, smart guy,” the king clarified, half-opening one eye to give the sinner an amused glance.

“Ah. I suppose that makes sense.” So, he gave the Devil his full name.

“Alistair… hm. I’m not seeing your file. When’s your birthday?”

The buck gave him the month and day.

“The _year_ , too, numbskull,” Lucifer said, opening both eyes now to glare at the man properly. “C’mon, work with me here, fella!” he added, snapping his fingers with mild impatience.

“Ah. Yes.” And he gave it.

“Alright, we’re gettin’ there. Hometown?”

“New Awlins.”

At this Lucifer opened both eyes again, this time in confused amusement at the Radio Demon’s previously undetectable Cajun accent. He bit back a snort as he closed his eyes again. “Bayou Land, Louisiana it is…” he mumbled to himself as he set back to searching.

He was down to a handful of New Orleans natives born on that day. _Okay, much better,_ he thought to himself. “Alright… Now where…are…you…Alistair…”

And here he seemingly came up short again in his attempt to find Alistair. Though there _was_ one file on a man named Alasto—

“Wait, hold on! I think I got it.”

Then, with a simple wave of his free hand, a manila folder appeared in the Devil’s grasp. He opened his eyes again, taking the folder securely in both hands, and stared carefully at the photograph paperclipped to the front of the folder. It showed a well-dressed and handsome Creole man wearing spectacles and a bright, too-wide smile. Lucifer glanced back and forth between the photograph and the Radio Demon a couple times and definitely saw a resemblance, but just to be positive….

“So, Alistair.” The buck blinked and perked up at the sound of his name. Lucifer turned the folder around to show him the photograph. “This you?”

The sinner bent down to get a better look, squinting a little, and brought a hand up to his face, making an evidently habitual gesture as though he were adjusting a pair of glasses that weren’t actually there, his static humming in thought. After a second, he pulled back, locking eyes with the king.

“It is indeed!” he confirmed, flashing another winning grin. “I know that smile anywhere!”

“Alright then! Alastor! Your name is spelled weird.”

Alastor gave off an irritated **_crACkle_** of radio static which Lucifer pointedly ignored. The Devil flipped the folder back around to face himself, opened it, and summoned a pen from the ether, all with a smug smile on his face.

“Now let’s see here…” he rattled off, scanning over Alastor’s personal information with a well-honed eye. “Alastor, m-hm, born yep, that’s correct, died…”

Here the king’s brow furrowed in frustration as he lifted his head to look the Radio Demon in the eye, a very forced smile on his features.

“Died thirty-six hours ago,” he said in almost complete monotone.

The buck merely puffed his chest out a bit, looking very proud of himself.

“Berries. Anyway.” Lucifer turned back to the file, eyes narrowed. “Cause of death…” And here he raised a very curious eyebrow at what he saw before reading aloud: “Mauled by hunting dogs and shot in the forehead, interesting.”

On hearing an annoyed **_buzzz_** of static, his gaze flicked back up to see the sinner’s pride rapidly deflating. The Devil couldn’t help a cheeky grin forming on his face at the sight.

He gave a slight chuckle before continuing, “Definitely gonna have to look into _that_ in more detail when I go through your full biography later.” He paid no mind to the increased volume in Alastor’s **_buzz_** ing and **_cRAcKl_** ing as he flipped forward several pages in the file to the actual sin documentation. “Alright, sin: murder of wow, that is a lot of people. I see where your ravaging experience comes from. Now, punishment…”

He tapped the tip of the pen against his chin and discreetly rolled his gaze back up at Alastor. The buck wore a half-lidded expression with a close-lipped smile. The king stared hard into those glowing red eyes, his very being once again threatening to completely boil over with hatred the longer he looked.

This flippant Creole bastard had upset his beloved Charlie to the point of near trauma. That in itself was a sin greater than almost any other in his eyes.

A wide, devious smile spread across the Devil’s face as he closed the folder and slid the pen clip onto it, turning his face upward to face the Radio Demon fully. He knew exactly what to do with this skinny piece of shit.

“You know what?” he began calmly, sending the folder back to the ether. “Ordinarily I would just toss you into the Gehenna tar swamps for all the trouble you’ve caused and call it a day, but considering the circumstances, I think I know a better alternative; and it may just benefit you as much as it does me. Care to hear me out?”

Alastor simply blinked at him a couple times, his static **_cRacKL_** ing a bit more as he did so. He then brought a hand up to his chin, humming in thought before finally answering.

“Might I retreat to the restroom to have a moment to think in private?”

The Devil shrugged at this request before answering. “Go right ahead. Don’t take too long, though.”

The taller man gave him a grateful smile before turning and entering the bathroom again, closing and locking the door behind him. Lucifer sneered after him before turning to sit on the couch again, where his grimace quickly spread into a wide, wicked grin.

_“ Papa Legba, louvri pòt yo. Vos enfants attendent.”_

His grin fell, however, when he heard the sudden, canned, static-filled not-quite-French. He turned his head to look at the bathroom door, his eyebrow raised and mouth ever so slightly agape with curiosity. Again the muffled voice spoke from behind the door.

_“ Papa Legba, louvri yo pou mwen, que je puisse te parler.”_

“Well, I’ll be double-damned,” the stunned king muttered to himself. The radio bastard was a Man of Faith.

Humans were lower beings, certainly, but they had a unique, extraordinary ability no other creature in any realm was known to have: They could make just about anything happen through faith alone, if it was sufficiently strong and genuine. Belief and devotion allowed People of Faith to invoke superhuman phenomena such as the healing of any ailment, the conjuring of sustenance, the projection of spiritual visions, absolute victory in battle, or simply increased personal strength and endurance, just to name a few. It didn’t matter what religion or belief system a human followed – Hinduism, Judaism, Shinto, Islam, Hellenism, Christianity, even simple belief in another person – if they had enough faith, they could do it.

What was especially astounding about it was that People of Faith could keep their powers even after death. Heaven called them saints; Hell had no realm-specific name for them because not many People of Faith ever manifested there, and those that did tended to quickly lose their powers on finding out their belief and devotion hadn’t spared them from eternal damnation. That said, as human society in the living world progressed, People of Faith became increasingly rare. Hardly a single Person of Faith had entered Heaven since the 17th century; for one to manifest in Hell in these times – let alone keep his powers – was unheard-of.

Eyes wide with astonishment, Lucifer couldn’t help leaning forward on his apple-topped staff as he listened in on Alastor’s brief chant. The mere mention of Papa Legba made it clear the sinner was a Vodouisant, confirming the king’s wild hypothesis about the dolls — they were voodoo dolls, animated with so much power they could actively do their master’s bidding rather than merely function as a passive conduit to remotely cause harm to a single person. The vevè segments he’d found surrounding the Radio Demon when they had first met suddenly made sense as well, and Lucifer was willing to bet the man’s faith had something to do with all the pins sticking out of the buck’s chest, too.

So People of Faith weren’t extinct after all.

That said, this sudden epiphany also frustrated him somewhat. The Vodou Loa were odd spirits with whom the Devil had never been able to make contact; any knowledge he had of them was entirely secondhand. What he did know was that, supposedly, one needed to invoke Legba first before trying to reach any of the other Loa. There was no telling who else Alastor would try to contact.

There was a weird, guttural groan from beyond the door before he heard Alastor say, “Allô, Papa. Wonderful to have you here with me again.”

There was no response—none that Lucifer could hear anyway. He gave the door a disappointed pout—but then Alastor suddenly let out a genuine, ragged laugh.

“Ugh, for _your information_ , Papa,” he choked out between chuckles, “these are a— they’re a _gift_! From— …At least they’re clean!”

At this the Devil raised an eyebrow. Now it seemed either the man was nuts or, for one reason or another, he could only hear the deer demon’s side of the conversation.

 _Weird,_ thought Lucifer. _But interesting._ He had to see where this conversation would lead.

Eventually, Alastor spoke again: “Hoo… anyway.” He was breathing heavily from the earlier laughing fit and cleared his throat before continuing, “I’ve… I'm in need of some counsel, Papa.” A pause. “Well—fair enough, I suppose. Hit me with it.”

For the next several minutes, Lucifer listened to the Radio Demon making apparent non-sequitur remarks that left the Devil only able to guess at whatever Legba was telling him. He heard Alastor mention that he was sorry to have disappointed Maman so; that he was flattered Kalfu wanted to talk to him again so soon, and he regretted he didn’t have the time right now; that he might try contacting Loko later—when he didn’t have pressing business with the Devil—if that was alright with Legba; that, in that case, maybe he won’t try to contact Loko so soon after all; that he never really thought much of Agwé anyway, so he couldn’t say that particular tidbit bothered him; and that he was nothing short of honored that Ayida-Weddo herself had to admit she was proud of him and he needed to remember to make an offering for her as thanks. It all left the king in a state of wonder. He didn’t know _any_ of these people, never even heard of some of them. But Alastor apparently was on comprehensive terms with all of them.

“Thank you for telling me all this, Papa,” the buck eventually said. “I am so very grateful for it. But I only need to speak with you, Papa. I am at a crossroads of my own.”

There was another long pause; again, the Devil could only guess at whatever Legba might be saying.

“Well, he _has_ told me the same thing himself. Twice now, in fact,” Alastor finally replied. “Alright. I trust you, Papa.” Another pause. “Ooh. Appreciate the reminder.” A very brief pause this time. “Thank you, Papa Legba. I owe so much to you and the others. I’ll talk to you again later today. Au revoir!”

The weird groan happened again, which Lucifer took as his cue to lean back onto the couch as though he hadn’t heard anything, bringing his cane with him. By the time Alastor unlocked and exited the bathroom, the king had already formed a small, genuine, curious smile as he looked up at the taller man.

“Get all the info and advice you needed from good ol’ Papa Legba?”

The buck stopped short with a **_zrt!_ **and simply stared at Lucifer, his toothy smile frozen in place. “Oh,” he said simply after a quick blink. “So you heard all that, did you?”

“Honestly? Just your half of the conversation,” Lucifer admitted, standing up. “Would love to hear _anything_ a Loa might have to say, though. You’re one of a kind, y’know, ya damn radio bastard.”

There was a brief **_pop!_** in Alastor’s static, and his expression changed to one of pleasant surprise at the king’s sincerity. For a brief moment, he seemed utterly speechless before finally answering with a slight bow: “I— thank you. Very much, Your Majesty.”

“Cherish this moment. Genuine compliments from me are rare. Now then!” the Devil continued, bringing his staff to his front with an authoritative _thump!_ to the floor. “Did Papa tell you that you might wanna hear me out?”

“He told me it wouldn’t hurt to listen,” the deer demon confessed with a shrug.

“Great! So here’s what I’m thinking: I let you stay here in lovely Pentagram City. You’ll be free to roam around and scare the shit out of everyone, but!” — he held up a declarative finger — “I’m going to have to put, shall we say, a ‘leash’ on you. Pandemonium may reign supreme here, but this is supposed to be your eternal _punishment_ , you know.”

The taller man nodded. “Understandable. May I ask what sort of ‘leash’ we’re talking about here?”

“A psychic one that I control,” was all Lucifer said in response.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed even as his toothy grin remained frozen in place, clearly not satisfied with the answer. Lucifer only countered with a raised brow and an expectant smile while the buck thought about his next move.

“And what would otherwise await me in — Gehenna you said?” the Radio Demon finally said.

The Devil nodded. “Mhm. Mostly just some inbred imps there. Plenty of other bayou lowlife sinners like you. Monster alligators. Wailing and grinding of teeth. Definitely not much technology, I can tell you that for certain.”

The deer demon nodded again. Taking this as a sign of understanding, Lucifer extended a hand to seal the agreement. “So, I’m guessing you’d rather stay in the city, then?”

Alastor didn’t move. He simply gave the king’s outstretched hand a wary, distrusting look. Then, after a pause, his grin seemed to widen, and he spoke up again: “Now, just to be clear, Your Majesty, I do like to think I’m not fool enough to enter into a deal with the Devil himself.”

Lucifer let out a surprisingly deep chuckle, gradually showing the Radio Demon more of his fangs in a sinister smirk. “Did Legba warn you about that, too?” he asked, retracting his hand and instead placing it on his hip. When Alastor didn’t answer, the king went on: “This isn’t a deal, buddy. This is a _choice_. This is me giving you an _option_. You can either spend the rest of your afterlife with imps, gator monsters, and tar getting in your fur; or, you can stay here in the city where it’s nice and cushy, just with something else to make sure you don’t get _too_ comfortable. Don’t forget: you’re here forever.”

The Radio Demon didn’t respond. He simply glared down at the shorter man with a strained, close-lipped smile. The **_buzzz_** ing and **_vrrrnn_** ing he emanated told the Devil everything he needed to know: the sinner could tell he wasn’t being told the whole truth and that there was a definite catch, but the frustration wasn’t in not knowing which part was the catch. Rather, it was in knowing exactly which part was the catch, but not the full details of it. It was surprisingly easy to get someone to overthink something that was laid out so plainly when that someone was fully expecting some hidden complication. That was the beauty of it, really: the buck hadn’t _really_ been told a single lie about the arrangement.

Technically speaking, anyway.

The Devil allowed his grin to widen, looking the taller man dead in the eye as he said his (carefully chosen) next words: “It’s your decision, Alastor.”

Alastor’s buzzing quieted down, and even the air around him seemed to become clearer and less fuzzy—something Lucifer had genuinely not noticed beforehand. The buck raised a hand to rub his chin in thought, his expression ever so slightly losing its edge. “…Go on, then,” he eventually said.

Lucifer blinked calmly up at him before answering. “Tar swamp? Or stay here on a leash?”

Alastor gave him a small, toothy smile, shrugging. “Stay here on a leash, then, I suppose.”

“Then it’s settled. How about we shake on it, then?”

He reached his hand out for the sinner to shake again. Alastor gave it a suspicious stare before – slowly, steadily – reaching his own hand out to clasp Lucifer’s. When nothing happened, the deer demon blinked in mild surprise before giving the king’s hand a proper shake.

Then the king tightened his grip.

The Radio Demon’s static began flaring up again, the shorter man’s surprising strength threatening to crush his hand. Lucifer’s expression didn’t falter; it only stared straight into the sinner’s face. That face split into a wide, startling grin even as Alastor grew visibly more irritated, even outright trying to pry Lucifer’s hand off of his own.

“Hey— Let— wha—?”

“Hey, what _is_ that?”

Alastor stopped struggling long enough to look the Devil in the eyes. They were different now, squinting intently up at him with bright red sclerae. Lucifer allowed his shark-toothed smirk to grow as he easily found his mark.

“What is what?” Alastor asked, baffled.

“On your face,” Lucifer answered, his eyes narrowing and smile widening even more. “There’s something right between your eyes, it looks like.”

Without missing a beat, he once again _thunk!_ ed the bottom of his apple-topped cane onto the floor—but this time, something actually came of it. Three prongs suddenly sprang out of the apple accessory with a sinister _shink!_ looking about as deadly as the expression on its owner’s face.

Alastor didn’t move as he watched the Lord of Hell raise his trident. He simply stood there transfixed, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Then Lucifer stabbed him in the forehead.  
  


#  **_Ķ̸̧̛̛̮̺̦̳̺̘̱̃̋̂̍̌̋̄̍̄͛̈́̆̚͜͠͠S̸͕̱̘̱͎̻̲̠̞͕̬̯̣͉̳̈Z̴̡̡̛̥̼̫͊͛̏̐͛̓̅̅͑͛͋̏͘͜͠͝ͅV̶̨̨̧̥͕̩̞̟͖̝͚̘̳̜͇̩͝R̶̞̪̳̤̺͍̋̾͌̅̓̎͂͜G̷̟̲̖̟̦͔̙̗̃͛̍͋̂̑̈́͐͋̅̈̇̓̄̋͆͊͘͘͜K̷̻̳̬͉͙͛̓̋̿̀́̎̏͊͂̉̀̕ͅL̷̡̛̛̬͙̰̝̪̣̘͓̪̣̻̹̹͛͆̆͂̒̐̌͂̿̔͆̏͘̕͝͝Ż̶̬̠̙̳̗͉͕͖̲̙̩̜̰̐̏N̵̡̛̝̮̞̖̹̩͍̤̼̬̞̦͈̱̿͋̎̄̅̃̽͛̇́̚͠X̷̨̢̘̖̘̮̺̣̬̺͍͉̓́͊͗͌̉͗̐̉̐͛̓̂͝V̸̠̥̹̦͙̗̩́̌̋̽͊̂̚̕S̴̛͖͖̞̗̮̼͔͔̪̙̗͈͛͑̋H̸̠̩͎̳̠̅̊́̓̓̓̆̏̎̈̾̆͂K̷̨̢̡̨͉̼̣̜̯̤͎͖͔͍̠̱̅͋̅̒̑̔̈́͛̾̒͋̅̋͌̎̓̂͘͘K̵̢͇̼͖̳̼̪̘͎̼̺̬͕͉̠̱̮̹͎͗̉͂̈́͆̌͘͝Ǩ̷̨̛̝͎͍̜̮̜̬̦̣̰̭̟͍̯͎̩̇̉̉͆̄̉̆̎̑͑̄͂̐͛̐͝K̴̩̘͉̜͕̖͈̈̄̉̍͌̓̈́̃̃̔̎̉͑͘͠͠Ṙ̷͙̣̭̝̻͉̣̆͛R̴̡̨̳̗̞͚͖͎̪͇̬͙͈̥̫͛͊̓̌͐̄̓̏͘͜͜͝ͅṚ̷̡̧͈̹͉̜͉̱̱̂͗͌́̈́̕͠͠R̶̢͈͖͙̲̘͎̰͌͐͆͋̆͜͜ͅR̸̛͉̹̅̏̍̑͐̃̑̊̈́̇̓͐̆͘͝—̶̨̜̹͎̦̯̖̪̞͈͑̅̏̒͗̉͘_ **

  
The visual static and fuzz immediately returned, along with the flashing scarlet vevè segments floating panicked and erratic around the buck’s head. So did the ungodly **_wARbL_** ing, **_WhIRr_** ing, and **_sCREeCh_** ing, but Lucifer powered through it: he was focused completely on the sinner’s face. Where once the taller man had displayed relatively normal eyes, there was now a pair of glowing red radio dials, themselves spinning wildly and distorted with their own visual static. The Radio Demon slowly began bleeding from his fresh wound between his eyes, but the Devil didn’t let up; he held his weapon firmly in place, squinting at the entry point and muttering under his breath:

_“ אני מטיל עליך קללה זו, חוטא, שהארור הנצחי שלך יתמלא בכעס וכאב. כגאווה הייתה נפילתי, כך זה יהיה שלך.”_

He then added, far more audibly, a mad grin on his face and pure, seething hatred in his eyes:

_“ חתיכת חרא לעזאזל.”_

The trident was then forcefully wrenched out of Alastor’s forehead, spilling several drops of blood onto Lucifer’s face, chest, shoulders, and hat. Alastor, meanwhile, lurched forward from the momentum as the vevès and static instantly vanished and were silenced. He blinked several times, his eyes only switching back to normal when Lucifer slapped the sinner’s hands off of his own. Alastor blinked down at his hands, then gripped the sides of his head, shaking it as though to clear it, his ears flicking wildly. It took a few seconds of this for him to fully steady himself, with only a glowing, scarlet, X-shaped cut on his forehead and a line of dark red blood flowing from it onto his still-frozen smile left as any indication that anything had really changed.

“…What just happened?” he asked blankly.

Lucifer only _thump!_ ed his cane against the floor again, causing the prongs to promptly retract back into the apple topper. He then twirled his finger in the air, magicking the blood off his person, all with a deceptively serene smile on his face. Finally, he turned to the Radio Demon—revealing his eyes to have gone back to normal—and let out a slight chuckle before answering.

“Listen. Al. I like your style. You make your own rules, you add your own flair, you enjoy stirring up a little chaos, you’re my kinda guy. Here’s the thing, though: We do have _one_ rule by which all must abide,” he said, his eyes and smile suddenly taking on a threatening glint as he stepped closer to the taller man and jabbed him hard in the chest, not once breaking eye contact. “ _I’m_ top dog down here. I can’t just let some upstart run around with free reign of the place! That’s why I’ve cursed you.”

Without taking his eyes off the king, Alastor reached up to his forehead to touch the spot where he’d been stabbed, but already the bright red X had begun to dim and the wound had begun to close. “…What sort of curse?” he asked tentatively.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed and his smile turned into a smug smirk before he answered: “Pain. Very discouraging pain. From this moment forward, if you try anything like what you pulled earlier, you’re gonna feel nothing but twisted, excruciating torture on your brain and muscles. I mean sure,” he added, shrugging, “you could try to power through it with everything you and your Loa buddies got. If you want to be stuck in a broken, crippled, paralyzed pile for over a month. Oh, and don’t think you’ll be able to circumvent this little handicap with any medical help. Even if anybody in all of Hell would ever want to approach you after your _‘broadcast,’_ I’m going to know when you’ve done something like this and exactly what you did. _No one_ will be able to help you.”

He paused to enjoy the expression on the deer demon’s face: it was an amusingly discomfited mix of frustration and disbelief.

“You tricked me,” was all the buck could say.

“I told you,” Lucifer began, “this is no _‘deal’_. _You_ made a _choice_. And you chose the leash. You chose something to keep you humble. Oh and don’t worry; you can still raise all the Hell you want, just at a price of great physical pain. Something’s gotta give is all!”

As the king smiled innocently up at the sinner, he couldn’t help noticing Alastor’s fist clenching in his peripheral vision. The Radio Demon’s eyes began to glow more intensely with an ominous **_bzzzz_ _…_** —before the X on his forehead began to glow again and his face started contorting in agony. He reached up to grab his head again—apparently to hold it steady or something—and grunted against the pain, his smile almost twisting into a grimace. After only a few seconds, the glowing and static subsided—but not before another trickle of blood, so dark it looked almost black, oozed out of the wound, trickling slowly down the buck’s face. Alastor then straightened up, regaining his composure. He took a deep breath in and out before folding his hands behind his back and giving the shorter man a close-lipped, deceptively serene smile of his own.

“Fair enough,” Alastor admitted. “I suppose I should have expected no less from the Devil himself.”

“Good man,” said Lucifer. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, too.”

The Radio Demon shifted his smile to show the Devil his bright yellow teeth as he cocked his head to the side, inexplicably carrying an air of confidence about him once again.

“So! Al,” the Devil said, folding his own hands behind his back. “Have we now come to an _understanding_ , bucko?”

The buck didn’t respond at first. Then his eyes narrowed dangerously, his eyebrows shot far upward, and his already wolfish grin somehow grew even wider, the stitches at the corners stretching uncomfortably.

“I see what you did there,” he said. “ _‘Bucko.’_ Ha! I love that you saved that for when we’re just about to go our separate ways!”

He threw his head back and continued laughing with such a bizarrely genuine glee—even the invisible audience returned to join in with him—that the Devil could once again only blink up at him in wonder, even having to bite back a snicker of his own. When he finally calmed down, Alastor gave a happy sigh, clearly in a much better mood than he had been mere minutes ago, and gave Lucifer his most sincere smile yet.

“You know, I may just find a way to enjoy my time here yet!” the Radio Demon chirped.

“Just answer the question, smartass.”

At this, Alastor closed his eyes and once again gave the Devil a slight bow. “We have indeed. I believe I understand quite well, Your Majesty.” He straightened up again before adding: “I _am_ in Hell, after all!”

He began laughing again, and at this the king found he couldn’t help but join in. _What a fucking weirdo!_ he again found himself thinking. _Goddamn, what a blight he must have been on others in life! I love so much that he’s in Hell! This place really needs more proper lunatics!_

After recovering, Lucifer cleared his throat to get the Radio Demon’s attention. When he got it, he simply asked: “See? That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

He then twirled his cane and turned on his heel to begin marching out of the room with an inhumanly large grin on his face, indicating with a wave of his hand for Alastor to follow, which he did quite eagerly. The walk back downstairs was surprisingly amiable, the two men exchanging jokes and idle chit-chat. Alastor could play several instruments, including the trumpet and violin; he got a huge kick out of learning that Lucifer had taught himself how to play the bagpipes centuries ago purely out of boredom. Alastor enjoyed tap-dancing but had never learned how to do it himself in life; Lucifer assured him that, with his hooves, he could make any dance into a tap dance. On and on it went like this until, after what seemed like no time at all, the two of them were standing at the ebony front doors of the palace again.

“My, Your Majesty,” Alastor piped up when he realized this, “I just might actually hope to speak with you like this again! If I’m not being too intrusive, might I even have the chance to enjoy the company of your wife and peers in perhaps a few years?”

And just like that, it was as though a switch flipped in Lucifer’s brain as he stared up at the taller man, his genial smile frozen in place and the sudden image of Charlie’s tear-stained face burned into his mind’s eye.

“Oh,” he said slowly.

_You goddamn motherfucker._

“Oh, I’m actually really glad you said something!” he began again, far more quickly. “That reminds me.”

With that, he promptly yanked the front door open without even looking at it, grabbed the Radio Demon by the arm, and practically _threw_ him outside. The buck barely managed to stay up on his hooves from the force of the shove.

“Could you do me a _huge_ favor and not even _think_ about coming anywhere near these palace walls for at least a few decades?” Lucifer called after him. “You’ve caused my daughter quite some distress, you see.”

Alastor whipped his head around with a sharp **_zrt!_** to face the Devil, eyes wide in astonishment, but Lucifer forcefully slammed the door in his face before the bastard got the chance to respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So why did this chapter take seven months to release? Well...
>
>> **Me:** "Alright, better get started on this second chapter! Don't wanna keep people waiting, after all!"  
>  **My Brain:** "Let's throw _so many_ of our headcanons about Lucifer in there."  
>  **Me:** "Okay, I guess that only makes sense..."  
>  **My Brain:** "And _every single one_ of our Alastor headcanons."  
>  **Me:** "Well... I mean-"  
>  **My Hands:** "OH MY GOD VIDEO GAMES"  
>  **Me:** "AW HELL, VIDEO GAMES, FUCK YEAH!!! 😃"  
>  **My Brain:** *gross sobbing*  
> 
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> I wish I was making up the pins and stitches. I really do.  
> [But I'm not.](https://tinyurl.com/ydz66579)  
> But yeah, I really do think that Alastor's power comes from his close connection to the Loa. He _is_ the character that actually got me interested enough in Vodou to actually do some research on it, and maybe I'm not representing how it works completely accurately (I mean that is what the "Inaccurate Vodou" tag is there for), but honestly, the Loa seem like pretty cool peeps. And I truly do think Alastor's faith is super devout (so I actually have another song to recommend as partial inspiration: ["Have Faith" by Aviators](https://youtu.be/rkJj1d6kH50). Yes it's a video game fansong in relation to Catholicism, but the general idea's still there leave me alone), to the point where, as a Vodouisant, the afterlife he was promised was one where he could completely let go of mortal cares and worries.
> 
> So basically I imagine Alastor arrived in Hell and, instead of taking the time to adjust like a normal person, pretty much said "Oh I'm in Hell. Eh, can't say I'm surprised. Wait a minute, that means I'm dead! I can do whatever I want now!" and then he just went full ham.  
> There's a bit more to it than that, but I've got limited space here. I do encourage you guys to learn more about Vodou and the Loa when you can, it's really amazing. All those named are actual Loa, look 'em up!
> 
> Anyway, shoutouts again, this time to OmegaBlack [for the illustrations I used for reference](https://tinyurl.com/y8rgp5a2), and to cute little 2011 SVA student Vivzie [for keeping this drawing of Proto-Al up on her tumblr](https://tinyurl.com/y5wemodq) so I could use it for inspiration on my vision of Alastor's body. Speaking of which, yes, he absolutely has a deer tail under that coat of his/those peasant shorts Lucifer gave him. Also his antlers are larger here than they're presented as by the time of the pilot, I feel like his antlers being as stupidly tiny as they are in the pilot is a glamor or something. Same with the pins and stitches not being visible anymore. Basically he looks more like his shadow here.
> 
> Oh yeah, I do recommend reading this chapter on a desktop computer rather than on mobile; that way you can hover over Alastor's Creole-French-mix and Lucifer's Hebrew to see what they translate to in English. I used Google Translate because of course I did.
> 
> I'll see you guys again...eventually! Hopefully in less than seven months. Speaking of months, though, today is my birthday! So Happy Birthday to me! 🎉  
> Later y'all!


End file.
